Dwelling on Lost Dreams
by Dare-Sonar
Summary: COMPLETE Takes place right after Butterflied: Sara quits, Greg gets fired, and a little place called Quantico has some odd, odd plans...[Greg fic] Extended summay inside...
1. An Ending in the Beginning

Dare-Soñar: My sincere apologies for this taking so long, but I suffered from severe allergic reaction to writer's block and was bedridden for weeks.

EXTENDED, EVEN MORE CONFUSING GENRE EXPLANATION: This is a hard one to judge on genres. It is mildly Grissom/Sara, more emphasis on tying up loose ends on their unknown history. Greg/OC wise, it is pretty humorous/dramatic/slightly tragic. I know, weird.

EXTENDED SUMMARY: Sara quits after "Butterflied", but is not forgotten easily. Greg is fired, but not in the way you would think. The Federal Bureau of Investigation's Behavioral Science Unit decide to try a trail investigation experiment, and use the Las Vegas Crime Lab as their every own personal guinea pig... Greg meets a past friend of whom left under mysterious circumstances, can he now get the answers that were denied to him for so long? ...And what the heck will happen to Grissom and Sara now? (Author's sincere apologies to S/N shippers)

DISCLAIMER: Well, since I own CSI, then-gets hit in the head with a flying pig Ow.

SETTING: Like, two seconds after "Butterflied".

* * *

1- "An Ending in the Beginning"

* * *

Grissom felt the usual pain again; the one he always receives after he knows a killer will go free. It weighed down his heart, and so did his words.

He knew he shouldn't have done it, but no human could live with such repressed feelings, and for so long. He hung his head, feeling totally broken.

Sara stood rigid, behind the one-sided mirror, almost feeling as if she shouldn't have heard that, even though she knew it was meant for her. Her past hung around the room, almost suffocating her. She can't go on with this, not anymore. The way he had hurt her, the way he would look at her, they way she couldn't forget... the way she had cried...

She left the room, a broken woman. She couldn't go on with this anymore. Not anymore. She walked out of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and just continued walking. She didn't want to return, it hurt too bad.

She hurt too much.

* * *

Grissom knew what would happen, the next night of work, when Sara never showed. He felt the terrible emptiness; he knew what it was like to work with someone for so long and always try to brush aside the memories.

_"Since when did you care about beauty?" She had asked, and he had replied the simple truth, "Since I met you."_

_"I wish I was more like you, Grissom, I wish I never felt anything..." She had said, pointing out his obvious flaws._

_"When I awake hearing her screams, you can tell me it is just empathy..." Sara had always known him, always knew how to hurt him badly. They were never good for each other, but could never get enough. Sara was Grissom's drug, perfect, heavenly while she lasted, but a bitter pain when the dream faded, when she became nothing but a lost dream._

When she had been absent for two days, Grissom knew he had to do it, as much as a boss as a... whatever he was to her emotionally. The word "Ex" didn't seem to fit.

So he found himself knocking on her door, nervously standing outside in the hallway. Sara was inside, he knew, he could almost feel her.

"Who is it?" Her voice fell on him, almost calming him, until reality crashed back.

"Me," he said simply. It was all he had to say. The door opened, and Sara stood there, looking so normal, so perfect...

They stared at each other, the wind whistling past Grissom as he finally gathered the courage to say, "You're going to quit, aren't you?"

She didn't cry, she knew she couldn't in front of him. She never cried. She stood, the same Sara, always missing something.

"I can't," was all she said, and she handed him her resignation letter.

Grissom nodded and took it. His eyes filled, he couldn't help it, with the postponed tears he had always denied. Her eyes remained dry and cold.

"Don't you ever cry? You never cry." He turned and left, without so much of a good-bye. She shut the door and only then did she cry.

"The truth is, Gil, I have cried too much..." She whispered.

* * *

"Why, when I close my eyes, do I see you? / What, when you say you love me, allows this to be? / And the moonbeams cover me, / Why do I wait for you? / How, when I cry in agony, do you comfort me? / Who, if there is somebody, gave such a love to me? / And the moonbeams cry with me, / Why do I love you? / How can I forget you?"

-"Moonbeams"


	2. Greg Gets Fired

2- "Greg Gets Fired"

* * *

Grissom continued on, living as usual. He had lived through worse... he had always been better.

The hardest was letting the rest of the team know. The shock was all too familiar, the faces that fell, and the familiar feeling of pushing Sara aside as he handed out assignments.

Catherine had stayed behind, after everyone exited silently.

"Yes?" He asked quizzically, hoping to his agnostic inner soul that he wouldn't cry.

Catherine knew he was hurt. She hurt too, and felt slightly betrayed.

"We are minus a CSI," she stated, "What are you going to do?"

Grissom smiled sadly, "I thought it was obvious."

Catherine followed his gaze to the inner lab, where Greg was standing, ignorant of the CSI meeting, dancing to some music as he fell on the floor to unsuccessfully try to do "The Worm."

"Oh." Catherine whispered.

* * *

Grissom had remained silent about his plans of promoting Greg out of respect of Sara, but he knew if there was anyone to replace her it would be Greg. You just can't really be mad at Greg.

Two weeks after her resignation, Grissom thought it would be the perfect time, so, at the beginning of shift, he called the usual meeting, starting with just the CSIs.

They were idly chatting, drinking coffee, when Grissom said, suddenly, "I have found a CSI replacement."

That shut everyone up. All heads slowly turned to look at Grissom, who said, "I just thought you would like to know. So, anyway, today we got a breaking and entering over at..."

"Wait!" Nick said, "Who is it?"

Grissom smiled an impossibly evil smile and said, "Don't be angry at me."

Everyone stared, and Grissom stood there smiling and said, "Well, I figured..."

Warrick caught on really quick, "Greg. Oh God, Griss! You chose Greg!"

He nodded, and every head of the four remaining CSIs turned to look into the Lab, where Greg spun around, caught the odd looks on all of their faces, and immediately froze like a spiky haired deer in headlights.

"Remember when you said to me: 'Hey, leggo of my Greggo, he's a CSI wannabe?'" Catherine asked Nick, who nodded, trying to hide a smile.

"Well, he now has to prove it." Grissom finished, as Greg, out in the Lab, began to look awkwardly uncomfortable while he acted like he was doing something important. Of course, everyone knew this wasn't true.

Grissom smiled that evil smile again and gestured at Greg to come over to the meeting. Greg pointed at himself, and then looked behind himself to check if Grissom was motioning to someone else. He shot a nervous look around to see if anyone was watching, and then walked, slowly, over to the break room.

His inward smile dropped as he crept into the break room, where all of the CSIs were waiting for him, grave looks on their faces.

"Yes?" Greg asked, using his total "I-Swear-I-Didn't-Do-It" face.

"Greg," Nick, not wanting to miss such an opportunity to scare the daylights out of the practical joker, jumped up before anyone else could say anything. He was totally somber.

Warrick slowly stood up too, knowing exactly what Nick was doing. "Greg, we're sorry we have to tell you this... but you have been at the LVCL for awhile now, around five or four years, correct?"

Greg became visibly uncomfortable, "Yes."

Grissom and Catherine slunk behind Greg so he couldn't see their smiles.

Nick continued, "We were all talking, and we agreed: as a Lab Technician to the Las Vegas Crime Lab, we are going to have to let you go. It was a congregational decision: totally unanimous."

"You're fired." They said in perfect unison, as if they had rehearsed.

Greg wasn't a stupid person, but Nick and Warrick pulled it off so well that he started to look slightly worried, especially when Grissom walked up behind him and said, "I'm sorry Greg, but Nick and Warrick are right. There is no more room for you as our Lab Tech."

He lifted up the object he had been carrying behind his back and, from behind, stuck it over Greg's (who was still facing Nick and Warrick) neck.

"Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, we do have room for you as a CSI Level One. What do you say, Mr. Sanders?" The badge hung over his lab coat and reflected the light.

He exhaled sharply, "Holy hell, you guys... I... you... was so scared... I thought... but..."

"Gregory Sanders: speechless. This is the biggest compliment of all." Catherine said, smiling.

"So... the entire time... all I had to do was kill Sara? Then I could have gotten the job?" Greg said, sardonic smirk back on his face, as everyone broke into laughter and came over to congratulate him.

"So, who does Greg tail along with?" Grissom asked, and at once everyone fell silent. Greg coughed nervously.

Suddenly, Nick yelled, "Nose goes!"

Instantly, Grissom, Warrick and Nick touched their noses with their fingers and smiled at Catherine, who looked at Grissom as if he had just betrayed her.

"Nose goes? Oh please, people. I thought we were supposed to be mature crime fighters."

She shot a look to Greg, who winked back at her and she said, "Or perhaps not."

Greg winced, "Ouch."

* * *

A/N: Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Sara.

"Prepositions are something you should never end a sentence with."


	3. Devin Richards

3- "Devin Richards"

* * *

Sara knew she missed it. It hurt her to think like that, but it was true. She missed the rush, the sense of accomplishment.

But she didn't miss the dreams, the nightmares, the frustrations... but all of that came with the job and made it so much of her life, made it so addicting. Made it so unforgettable...

It had been three months since she had quit, since she had run away. She even had a job, one that didn't pay as much as CSI, and was definitely much more different, but the Physics degree from Harvard is pretty impressive. Ironically, though it helped her into the job, she never used it.

Las Vegas Zoo, go figure. She thought it was the obvious choice, considering her history with people. She loved it, loved every second, which made her wonder: _Did I waste all of my life in a place where I didn't belong?_

3rd Assistant Zoo Manager, Aquatic Animal Division. Basically, it required her to wander around the Zoo, preferably the tanks that held the fish, and order the zookeepers around. The pay wasn't fun, but she did enjoy going to work everyday, which meant a lot to her. Sure, there was the occasional animal death, but she never had to investigate it, which was a major plus.

They called her The Cop, even though it was far from the truth. She had pulled some strings to climb quickly to her position, it was a necessity, and she now was happy where she stood, watching the Spinner Dolphin tank.

Being a naturally nocturnal person, she usually hung around after the Zoo closed and left with the last of the employees. She was checking the tank when she noticed something odd with the female Spinner (as the dolphins were called).

She could tell it was Nevina because she was pregnant, and the little dolphin always looked so silly, jumping up into the air and bulging with baby. But tonight, Nevina was being unusually social. When Sara would walk around, Nevina would follow, cricking in her cute way. None of the dolphins had ever really been smitten with Sara, and Sara always had an odd feeling that the dolphins could see past her false pretenses and see her true self, and they wisely stayed away. Plus, her job never really involved the actual animals.

"What's wrong?" Sara asked, leaning over the tank wall to get a closer look at Nevina, who rolled over and showed her white belly. That's when Sara noticed the blood.

"Oh God..." She said, and radioed for help.

* * *

The three months that Sara had been gone had passed quickly at the LVCL, and Greg always was smiling. He was a better CSI than anyone expected, even himself. He had a knack for spotting the really small, almost insignificant things. He hadn't been put on a murder yet, but had solved two cases of robbery.

The new lab tech was a short, recently married woman in her thirties, and Greg liked her right away. The feeling wasn't mutual, Greg found out one day when he had dropped off fabric samples and an unknown liquid.

Yvette was working with a machine that identified unknown substances, and when she attempted to shut it, it didn't work. After five minutes of struggle, Greg saw her pushing the lid shut forcefully.

"Hey, hey!" Greg burst, walking over, "Are you crazy? All you have to do is shut it slightly to the left, and shove it right to click. It has always been that way. I think someone dropped it before."

She shot him a deathly glare as she shut it correctly and said, "Mr. Sanders, please leave. This isn't your lab anymore."

He bowed out respectfully. Ever since then she had never really enjoyed his company. He always kinda liked her though. She never seemed totally threatening.

Of course, as with everything, something was brewing to change the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and this was just happening states over, in a little place called Quantico, Virginia.

* * *

The Director of the FBI, Devin Richards, was overseeing crime statistics. In a perfect world, he would have stayed out of things that weren't his business, preferably Crime Lab statistics. Crime Labs were the State Government's problems, not one of the Federal Government. But after just being elected he promised an answer to help lower state crime, and that meant working with Crime Labs. He took the list in his hand, entitled "Crime Lab Rankings in USA, by Cases Solved ratio of cases solve to time taken (2003-2004)" and knew which to use.

He pointed at Number Two, the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and said onto the phone, "I hear Las Vegas is great at this time of year... get me Gil Grissom on the phone, please."

* * *

For Gil Grissom, that day, or night, had started like any other. He had to stay behind rounds to finish off his biggest pet peeve, paperwork, when he threw his pen across the room in mild frustration and read the paper instead.

It was a small article, Grissom had no idea why he had come across it, entitled "Richards Elected; Promises a Decrease of State Crime." Grissom's job is based on state crime, so he figured he had better read what the new FBI Director had for all the lowly State Crime Labs.

-----

Quantico, Virginia-

The newly elected Devin Richards of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was elected because of his promise to help lower state crime and was recently hosting a press conference to answer questions about his position when the inevitable question was raised on how he was planning on lowering state crimes.

"I am not a traditional Director. Here at the FBI, everyday brings us more sophistication, more modern ways to solve crimes. Our Behavioral Science Unit, or Investigative Support Unit, deals with the aspects of Criminal Profiling and Criminal Stressors and brings us to the answer of a case faster and more thoroughly than using just the evidence. We are setting into action and experiment wherein we are assigning criminal profilers to state cases to not just be used as accessories; they will follow the case from beginning to end."

He mentioned he was going to place Profilers to various State Crime Labs and see if the statistics will lower. This he "has much faith in" and urges all to share his feelings.

-----

The rest of the article just mentioned a brief history of the FBI BSU and of Devin Richards. Grissom put the paper down and figured, well, that was that, his Crime Lab was number two in the country. They didn't need any of that profiler rubbish, they could solve crimes quite well on their own.

Thank _you_ very much

Then, the phone rang.

"Mr. Grissom?" The secretary's voice called through the phone, "There is someone on line three for you."

"Who?"

"Some guy who says his name is Devin Richards."

* * *

"Q: Have there been any successful cloning experiments?

A: Yes. In 1995, scientists from Florida used a single strand of DNA from the Backstreet Boys to form 'N Sync. Or maybe it was the other way around."

-Dave Barry


	4. Agent Szmerka

4- "Agent Szmerka"

* * *

Taña Szmerka wasn't planning on that day changing her life either. She awoke and drove to Richmond and checked into shift just as normal.

She arrived at her desk in the Investigative Support Unit a little earlier than expected, so, in a wise move, she decided to overview the case she would be working.

She had been a professional criminal profiler for the FBI for officially two years, but the training and preparation went for much longer. She had just finished her probationary period (all agents had to go through it) and was finally where she had planned on being. She was even beginning to work on a case, but, of course, she was under the watchful eye of her former professor, Agent Johnson.

She retrieved the folder of crime scene photos and scattered them over her desk. The blood didn't faze her; but she was slightly disturbed because the victim was actually a dog. The dog was murdered by a minor, who spread the dog's remains all over his lawn and forced his little sister to watch. She hadn't actually gotten an actual murder case yet, but an agent doesn't receive those until he or she is assigned to a field office. The assignements were due out any day, so that was the news that was abuzz in the office that day, and that's why she didn't find it weird that her superior called her into his office that day.

She did find it weird that the Director of the FBI was in the office as well.

"Agent Szmerka?" Devin Richards asked, standing and shaking her hand. She accepted his hand and tried not to look too confused.

"We received your field office requests," Agent Johnson said.

Taña nodded.

Devin continued, "You requested Denver. Why?"

Taña wondered if this was a test, because you never really do finish your training with the FBI, but continued on as normal, "I went to college there and I fell in love with it."

She smiled, but the Director and Agent Johnson didn't look convinced.

"Uh... I actually have a bad allergy of mold too, and it is pretty dry there..."

"Well, that's a relief," Devin interrupted, "Because we have moved you to a desert climate."

Taña narrowed her eyes in suspicion, "Where?"

"Las Vegas."

"Las Vegas?" She asked, thinking back, "There were no openings in the Las Vegas FBI Field Office. I remember reading..."

"We aren't sending you to the Field Office."

Her insides ran cold, and then she clicked, "The Experiment. You... I... you're using _me_?"

They nodded.

"With all due respect, Director, but I was first in my class at Quantico _and _did two internships... I think I would be more qualified working with my fellow agents..."

"Of all my students, I never expected you to jump to such conclusions."

Taña tried not to get angry, "Why are you sending me?"

Devin answered, "A lot is riding on the success of this experiment, so we are sending our top students to the top state crime labs. You are to work there for an undisclosed amount of time..."

"How long?"

"It depends, but maybe the five year minimum..."

"Five years? Working at the State Level?"

"There is nothing wrong with the state level of crime solving, Agent."

"What do I get out of this?"

Taña knew she shouldn't have asked that, and Devin did look a little miffed, but he said, "No Agent seniority."

She wasn't expecting that.

"We are sending you alone, Agent. Your flight leaves in two days."

"You're not telling me something."

"You're right, Agent Johnson, she is smart. You do have one senior to obey."

Taña began to look worried.

"The crime scene investigator who is in charge will be your senior. A Mr. Gil Grissom."

_Don't get mad, Taña, just breathe. He would never give a CSI seniority over a GS-13 FBI agent._

"Sir?"

"You heard correctly."

"But when we take over a state case, the FBI always has seniority-"

"We are not _taking over_, Agent. We are _working alongside_. This is the only way they will cooperate. And you will too. You will still receive federal government pay as a GS-13 and seniority over the rest of the CSIs. There was no other way to work this, Agent, and as a recent graduate, you and your fellow students are the most qualified to undergo this trail period."

Agent Johnson began to talk, "Imagine how lucky you are, Agent Szmerka. Unlike most profilers, you will be able to start with the CSIs, not after them, you will be able to see the actual scene, not just work with photos. You will be able to profile suspects along with the CSIs, first, and recently after the murder, before they can think up stories of delusion. You will have every opportunity to become an actual profiler, and not a last hope of a case."

Taña took a deep breath and nodded as she took the airline ticket that was handed to her then asked, "Why Las Vegas?"

Johnson smiled at that, "You are the only student of whom I don't worry about partying."

She smiled and left, then paused, wondering if that was a compliment or not. She couldn't ponder it, though. She had to pack for Nevada.

_This is going to be very, very interesting..._

* * *

The grim look on Grissom's face as he walked into the meeting the next day shut everyone up.

"Last night, I received a phone call from Devin Richards."

Catherine spoke up, "Devin _FBI Director_ Devin Richards?"

"Yes. The coordinator of this Crime Lab and the FBI are conducting an experiment that is total bull and will do nothing but waste our time."

Greg was shocked to see Grissom so angry and chagrined.

"Uh, anyone care to elaborate?" Nick asked. Catherine answered, "The FBI is sending a criminal profiler to work alongside us during our murder cases. I read it in the newspaper, but I never expected they would send one to us."

Grissom nodded, "Criminal profiling is the most un-scientific method for crime scene investigation. Totally bogus."

Greg smirked, "Did you just use the term 'bogus'?"

Everyone ignored him, and he passed out the assignments and said, "Greg, you're teaming with Nick. I have to go prepare for our very own profiler."

He stalked out of the room and everyone turned their heads to Cath, who shrugged, "I have never been against profiling."

"We all care about the who, what, when, where and how, but we all know Grissom doesn't particularly care about the why." Warrick said thoughtfully.

* * *

"They say the high school years are supposed to prepare you for the real world, which must suck also."


	5. Introductions and Fuzzy Memories

5- "Introductions and Fuzzy Memories"

* * *

Taña Szmerka got off the plane and walked over to the baggage claim. While she waited for her luggage, she thought back, wondering how on earth she ended up in Las Vegas.

She was born in San Francisco, on May 7th, 1975, but had to move to San Gabriel when she was in third grade. Her parents were always classic examples of the perfect marriage, whatever that may be.

So she grew up a reject, a "nerd", never fitting into the crowd because of her focused concentration, her witty sense of humor and mature style was always a little above the "I just want to have fun" kids, but it did have an effect on her.

She learned to watch people, observe them, to see patterns, so she joined the FBI expecting to become a criminal profiler. Like a real one, not one used as a guinea pig in an experiment to help a guy she didn't even like look better.

To soften the blow, the FBI arranged an apartment in a run-down apartment complex, but it was better than apartment shopping in a city that she was totally unfamiliar with. She was far from a Vegas girl, and closer to a "quiet little rural town" sort of girl.

After unpacking, she drove her rented car over to the Las Vegas Crime Lab and prepared to meet her new crew. One of which would be able to boss her around like... Agent Johnson. Anyone could be better than him...

So she walked into the Lab, and Gil Grissom was there to meet her.

* * *

Whatever Grissom was expecting, it wasn't Agent Taña Szmerka.

She was short, around five four, with long, brown hair that seemed almost silky. She had dark black, sleek glasses and light olive skin. What stuck out on her were her bright brown eyes, which seemed so shrewd and like they were absorbing every little piece of information she saw.

From what Grissom had been told, she was top in her class, a Masters in Criminal Psychology, had already helped solve a case which involved a stalker.

She was attractive in an average way. Not unapproachable, just pretty, almost refined. He was told she was slightly asocial.

_Like Sara_, the words echoed in his brain before he could stop them.

_No, she is not a replacement for Sara. You can't replace Sara._

"Agent Szmerka," Grissom said, extending his hand, and immediately took a liking for the first impression she engraved on him. She looked him straight in the eyes, something a lot of people avoid with a man like Grissom, and smiled a faint smile and said, "CSI Grissom Grissom. Pleased to meet you."

"Let me show you around. We have a Lab capable of processing enough evidence for over thirty cases at a time. I am the head CSI for Graveyard Shift, and a man of whom I doubt you would want to meet is the head of Day Shift. We have two main medical examiners, numerous Lab Techs, and currently the graveyard shift consists of four Level Three CSIs and one Level One CSI. I'll introduce you."

He walked into Auto Detail, where Warrick and Nick were spreading KY Jelly over the tires of a car to take the tire prints. They had gotten into some kind of slight argument, as Grissom and Taña could see by the big globs of Jelly all over their faces and hair. They saw them and immediately stood up, rock rigid, as if they were little boys just being caught in trouble. Taña noticed how they respected Grissom immediately, but the boyish grins on their faces showed a close friendship with the mysterious man.

"Agent Taña Szmerka, meet Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes. Warrick specializes in audio and visual analysis, and Nick boasts pretty good hair and fiber analysis. I would also like to note that they both lack in the automotive section. Boys, meet Agent Taña Szmerka."

They waved, showing greasy hands and still sporting the same smiles. She smiled, "Good to meet you, Mr. Stokes and Mr. Brown. I hope your investigation skills aren't so messy out in the field."

They blushed purposefully and continued on the work.

Grissom lead her back into the lab and over to the coroner's room.

"This is Doc Al Robbins, head Medical Examiner. Doc, this is our new criminal profiler, Agent Taña Szmerka." They exchanged greetings and then Grissom walked her over to the break room, where Catherine was just hanging up her cell phone.

"Agent Szmerka, this is Catherine Willows, specializes in blood spatter analysis. Catherine, this is Agent Taña Szmerka."

"Good to finally meet you. I am curious to see how this experiment works out." Catherine said as she shook Taña's hand.

Grissom wandered out in the lab and caught Greg with an innocent smile, grinning at Yvette, the replacement Lab Tech, who had a look of daggers. Greg leaned over to help her with the printer, and she exploded like a small atomic bomb.

"We can head over to the lab and we can meet our Level One, Greg Sanders. He was formerly our lab tech, and I am finding it harder to get him out of the lab now he carries a CSI badge."

"Greg _who?"_ Taña asked, her head snapped around in an odd way.

"Sanders." Grissom pointed to Greg, who pressed one button and the printer finally worked, as Yvette threw up her arms in frustration and pointed to the door.

Taña began to turn slightly pink.

Grissom ignored that, perhaps his eyes were fooling him, and Greg walked right into them.

"Greg, I would like you to meet our new criminal profiler."

Greg turned his eyes to her and shook her hand, "Greg Sanders, baby CSI."

"Agent Taña Szmerka, real FBI agent," she said simply, and it was at that moment Greg looked into her eyes.

"Holy shit!" He said before he could stop himself, then backed up, "_Taña_?"

"Hello, Greg. Long time no see." She said, an unpleased look evident on her face.

"You look... you look really good, for someone who can magically disappear."

"You look good too, for someone who still looks like he did when he was in the third grade, and who takes his punches like a little girl."

Grissom looked wide-eyed between the two as they still stood, hands clasped, staring each other down.

"Anything you two would care to share? Or, dare to share?"

"Nothing, your CSI Level One is just a shallow, complete and total jackass."

She spun around and walked away, and Greg yelled back, "Maybe you ought to profile girls who are runaways!" He fumed for a minute, then stomped off in the other direction.

And for once, Grissom didn't say anything wise. He just stood there.

* * *

"Note to self: stop walking around."

-Garfield


	6. Suspect Number Two

6- "Suspect Number Two"

* * *

Taña was pissed. Of all the people in the world, of all six billion of them, she magically ends up with the one man she had hoped would be crippled with erectile dysfunction and die a terrible death.

Okay, so she didn't really want the guy to die. And she had to admit he still was as cute as she remembers, but that was no excuse to the nasty way he had acted towards her.

* * *

Greg was pissed. Of all the people in the world, of all six billion of them, he had to run into the one woman he had finally given up on, and could never forget.

And she looked _good._

* * *

_Graduation day.__ D-day. He had to tell her._

_Greg walked quickly through the crowd, his graduation robe billowing in the wind as he weaved his way through the crowds of chattering teenagers._

_Then there she was. Walking towards him, as a crowd, a huge crowd, of people... his _friends_, stood behind her, laughing. They were laughing at her! She knew. Now she really knew._

_Those faces, breaking in huge smiles, laughing at Taña, who was walking as fast as she could towards him.__ How could those cruel people be his friends? How could they? How could he even stand being around them? Was it really him who thought of this terrible idea? Who knew it could go this far?_

_How could he?_

_Taña finally reached him, crying, and yet her face remained focused on him._

_She tried to say something, but she couldn't, but she finally could mutter one thing, the last thing she would ever say to him._

_"Do you want to know the sad thing? It's not that I thought it was true, it was that I wanted it to be.."_

_She turned her back, and didn't even say goodbye._

_And still, in the back, they laughed._

_How could they be his friends?_

_How could he?_

* * *

Grissom shook from the slight daze he was in and walked to his office, where Taña sat, completely calm, in the chair in front of his desk, as if nothing had happened.

He sat down, looking at her cautiously, as if a sudden movement would startle her into another Anti-Greg frenzy. She remained calm and smiled coolly.

"So, I have read your file." Grissom said, straight back to business, "A masters in Criminal Psychology, training at Quantico, already assisted on a stalker case. How is your field work?"

"Criminal Profilers commonly don't really do field work. They do revisit Crime Scenes, but that is long after the CSIs do."

Grissom revealed a crime scene folder from the drawer of his desk. He handed it to her.

"I want to see you profile."

She shot him this look, a look Grissom would become familiar with, where she seemed to be reading him, looking right through him.

"Of all of the crime labs I get sent to, I get the one where the senior doesn't believe in profiling."

Grissom felt a stab of self-consciousness, wondering if he was that easy to read.

She looked down at the crime scene photos, read the notes. Time passed, yet neither Grissom nor she moved. He watched her with his calculating stare, and she absorbed the photos and the interviews with incredible speed and interesting faces. One picture of a dead body could bring nothing, but a different angle of the same picture could make her face break out in an odd, almost satisfied smile. More time passed. She read over the suspect's history, more interviews.

How much time passed, Grissom didn't know, nor did he care, watching her was almost hypnotizing. He had given her a file on three suspects, crime scene photos, and victim history and crime description. The case was already solved, but he hid the information from her.

"Well," she said, breaking both the silence and Gil's strange trance, "I can only determine so much from these pictures. Your murderer is young. Inexperienced. This was a murder of what the killer felt is necessity, maybe she saw his face, maybe she heard his name, but he felt he needed to end her life for his protection. Sexual assault could mean many things, but reading suspect #1's and comparing his background to #2's and #3's, I can clearly exclude number one and three."

Grissom jolted at that. He had given her a case of a woman who was raped and killed and the main suspect was a man who lived in her apartment complex who was found with the knife in his car. Of course, he was suspect number one. The real killer was number two, the young car waxer who claimed she had lead him on, but in reality he had raped her, and only after he finished did he consider killing her. He had stashed the knife in a man's car while it headed through a car wash, knowing the man was from the same apartment complex from his parking permit.

"But, the knife was found in #1's car..."

"Planted. I don't know how, but psychologically number two is a classic case of a rapist. I would recommend checking him out first, perhaps saving you a lot of time, but I know this case is already solved."

Grissom smiled. The woman was smart.

"You pass, for now. We will see what will happen in the field."

She smiled and stood up and shook his hand and as she walked out of the door, she turned around and smiled, "I know it wasn't in there, but I can make a sure bet that your killer drove a blue car. A small car. Probably a small Toyota or Honda."

He shot her a look.

"Tricks of the trade. Humans are creatures of habit." She shut the door lightly and left Grissom to his own very confused thoughts. He searched through the other papers that he had not given her through the rest of the night and, right when he was about to give up, he saw it:

...SUBJECT bought a blue HONDA ACCORD in 1997...

He smiled and put the papers back. He will have a lot more to learn from Taña Szmerka.

* * *

Sara smiled as the Spinner Dolphins put on quite a show. It was near closing time again, and Nevina and her new daughter were showing off in an impromptu dolphin dance.

After Sara had saved both dolphins' lives, Nevina had been strangely attracted to Sara, as much as a mammal who lives in water could be to a land-dwelling mammal.

And the little dolphin, Sara, was too.

Sara was against it, but the vets along with the zookeepers insisted on naming the baby after Sara, and who was she to stop them? They at least stopped calling her "The Cop."

And as Sara and Nevina clicked in a playful way, Sara the Human felt like she was finally home.

But she still felt empty...

* * *

"White women call this the silent treatment... and we let them think we don't like it."

- "Kill Bill Vol. 2"


	7. Guess Who's Here

7- "Guess Who's Here"

* * *

_Graduation was a half a month away. Greg and Taña had just arrived at a party, and she had excused herself for the bathroom when all of Greg's friends magically appeared out of nowhere and sat with him on the couch._

_"So, any luck yet with the missus?" His friend, John, sat with a smirk on his face._

_"Man, where do you come from? You're cramping my style." Greg replied, immediately having blood rush to his face._

_"Your style is permanently cramped; don't lay the blame on me. So, what about the walrus? Has she said it yet?" John smiled, in an evil way._

_"Man, you are so evil. I'm starting to think about not doing this... this is going deeper than I thought."_

_"Greg Sanders, class clown, actually is falling for the walrus? No way, man."_

_"Shut up, I am just rethinking this whole... thing."_

_"Then stop, but then you lose the bet."_

_"I can't stop... I'm in too deep."_

_"Whatever man." John got up and walked away, just as Taña came back._

_That night, Greg took Taña in his car and was heading home from the party when he said, into the silence, "I think I'm falling in love with you."_

_Taña snapped her head around to look at him, "What?"_

_"I love you."_

_"Greg, this makes no sense, and I think you are holding out on me. Why did you just one day ask me out? I'm not exactly the most popular girl in school..."_

_"I'm not popular either. C'mon, I am in the Science Club..."_

_"But you're funny. Everyone thinks you're funny. You fit in anywhere. You don't love me."_

_"Yes I-"_

_"No you don't. Because I don't love you. I can't love someone I don't understand."_

_Taña had always been odd in that way. She always could understand him, almost look through him. He was falling in love with her. He hated to admit it, but he was._

_That night was different than the rest. They both fell in love that night._

_Then graduation came. Then they parted._

* * *

The next night "dawned", and everyone pow-wowed in the lab before assignments were given. Greg and Taña sat in opposite corners of the room, and immediately everyone noticed the bad vibes.

Warrick and Nick sat in between them and smiled nervously. Catherine shot them a look and they sat in the silence, waiting for Grissom.

Nick couldn't take the silence anymore, "So, uh, Taña, ready to work out in the field?"

"Anything to get away from Greg," She said simply, killing any hope for conversation, and supporting their suspicions of a bad relationship between Greg and Taña.

"She's been here for a day and she already hates Greg. She learns quickly," Catherine whispered to Warrick, causing him to break out into unsuccessful tirade of hiding laughter.

"Okay, I _so_ heard that," Greg said, causing everyone to finally break out into laughter, even Greg, who smiled crookedly.

"Hello my fellow CSIs, and profiler. Today is going to be fun-filled. Nick, you got a robbery over at a jewelry store on the strip. Warrick and Catherine, you got a 'suspicious smell' over in a condominium."

"A what?"

"Decaying flesh, so they say. You got to find the source. I think it's going to involve breaking in walls."

"Wait, Catherine and Warrick get to break in walls, while I get to dust for prints over at some jewelry store?" Nick said.

"Life isn't fair, Nick. Our profiler and I have a floater over at the Zoo, found in some back animal tank."

"What about me?" Greg asked, standing up.

"Nose goes!" Catherine smiled, and immediately everyone's fingers flew up to their noses.

"Guys, that doesn't really boost my self-esteem, the fact we do this every time." Greg moaned, then smiled, "Besides, it won't work, 'cause Grissom lost, and he's the boss."

Grissom had lost. Taña looked from Grissom to Greg and said, "Is this how you guys really solve your problems? 'Nose Goes'?"

Everyone smiled at her.

"So?"

"So, at the Bureau, we play 'Paper, Rock, Scissors'." She answered back, and everyone grabbed their coats and Grissom smiled at Greg, "Ready for your first dead body?"

"Bring it on." He said, then shot Taña a look, "Besides, a DB will be better company than this profiler."

"Shut up Greg, and that's an order," She shot back, and they walked out bickering, and Grissom paused at the door and gave everyone in there a look.

"At the rate these two are going, I am never going to have children."

Catherine waved him out, "That's why I only had one."

* * *

Sara awoke with a slight snort. She had fallen asleep in the break room. She groggily lifted her hand and looked at her watch. It was 8:00 pm, time for her to start heading home.

She decided to walk over and say goodnight to Sara and Nevina. As she was walking, she had a gut feeling that something was wrong. She started to run, and as she rounded the corner and saw a crowd, she realized it was correct.

She ran up and fought her way through the crowd of employees who had gathered. She was so used to it, so used to seeing it that it had become invisible, but it stopped her: crime scene tape. Almost out of habit, she was about to lift it up and go under it, but she forced herself back; she wasn't a CSI anymore.

As if in a daze, she looked up towards the tank and saw three amazing things: an unknown woman who was standing back, observing people with a very Grissom-like look on her face, Greg Sanders interviewing a somewhat disgruntled looking Zoo employee with a CSI badge hanging off of his neck, but the most surprising of all: Grissom. The man she had been unwillingly dreaming about. The man she couldn't forget, despite many tries.

How could she be in love with a man she hates?

* * *

Taña was standing back, watching people, especially the crowds, since the murderer was most likely a member of the Las Vegas Zoo staff. They were all crowded around the crime scene tape, but one jumped out as being totally suspicious: she was totally calm.

She was a pretty brunette, who was standing totally still with a very unreadable look on her face. She was staring at Grissom's back, with a look so hard that Taña was surprised Grissom didn't burst into flames.

"Hey Greg," she said, and motioned for him to come towards her. He excused himself from the interview and walked over. She said, "I've got you a suspect for your floater right there. She is in the crowd, staring at Grissom, totally calm. That is your killer right there."

Greg squinted to the crowd and said, "Who are you talking abou- whoa."

"I know, anyone could peg her as the murderer..."

"No, it's Sara."

"Sara?"

"Sara Sidle."

"Sara Sidle? The CSI level three who quit before my arrival who trained with Grissom in San Francisco? That Sara Sidle?"

Greg shot her a confused glance, and she batted her eyes at him, "I've read extensively into her file, along with everyone else's in Quantico. Imagine what I know about _you."_

Greg smiled nervously, and said, "Who woulda guessed she would wind up at the zoo?"

"Yes. How convenient, and somehow it winds up being a crime scene."

"I didn't mean it like that. You may have read stuff on Sara, but you don't know her," Greg said, and then ran up the ladder to talk to Grissom, who was bending over the bloated DB as David the coroner was examining his wounds.

"Hey Grissom, guess who's here..."

* * *

"You know, senior citizens, though slow and dangerous behind the wheel, can serve a purpose. Don't you go dyin' on me!"

-Dumb and Dumber


	8. The Last Interview

8- "One Last Interview"

* * *

Sara finally shook herself out of the trance and waited to be interviewed, like everyone else at the Zoo. It was weird, seeing an investigation from this side.

Greg was conducting all the interviews, and the unknown woman was always right next to him, studying the interviewees with a very cunning stare. Eventually it will wind up to her. She already knew Greg knew she was there, because when she finally looked at him he winked in his classic way. The real question was: did Grissom know? He had been with the DB the entire time, just out of her view. He must know. Greg would have told him.

Would he?

Taña and Greg took a break to walk towards Grissom and get more info on the DB when Taña asked, "So, when are you going to tell me?"

"What?" Greg answered.

"What the deal was with Sara quitting. I heard she was an excellent CSI."

"Well, it's not really my business to tell..."

"They had a personal, out-of-work relationship, huh? I knew it. Someone burned the other badly. I'll bet that was back in San Francisco." Taña said, shooting a look over her shoulder to Sara, who was calming some people.

"Why do you even ask?" Greg asked, rolling his eyes and they immediately fell silent when they were within earshot of Grissom, who was taking photos.

"Time of death wasn't determined because of water temperature altered the liver temp. He died of blunt force trauma to the frontal lobe, some post-mortem breaks of the ribs, possibly in transport to dump the body. This is definitely a dump site. This isn't our main crime scene."

Greg and Taña nodded, and Grissom looked at Taña. "Would you like to add anything?"

Taña smiled coyly, "Well, blunt force trauma deaths are hard to profile. Sometimes they can be accidents, or personal killings. Sometimes the object used for the killing can be an important variable. Do you have any info on the object?"

"Sharp, small object. Possibly the corner of a counter top."

"Possibly a wrench..." Taña drifted off. The body was being taken away for autopsy.

"I told Doc Robbins to take a mold and to call me," Grissom said, and then he finally turned around and looked at Taña and Greg, who were standing close by instinct because the Las Vegas night was so cold.

"So, murder brought the two enemies together?" Grissom said, smiling faintly.

"What can I say? It must be the moon and theories of blunt force trauma that really brings out the romance in a girl," Taña said with a wink, but then she killed the mood as she said, "We only got one more interview to do. Sara Sidle."

Grissom went rigid in the moonlight, and so did Greg. Her quitting had really affected the CSIs.

"Fine, you big babies, I'll do it myself. Greg, let me see your notepad." He handed it to her and she flipped through the pages and before she turned around to grant the interview she muttered, "Chicken scratch for writing. I figured."

They all turned around and looked at Sara, who was still standing amidst the crowd.

_Why did she quit? She was such a great CSI..._ Grissom was thinking, and as if Taña could read his thoughts she quoted, "'It is our choices that show who we truly are, far more than our actions...'"

Grissom listened to the quote and said, "Aristotle?"

She said, like it wasn't anything weird, her eyes still trained on Sara, "No. Dumbledore from Harry Potter." She walked away from the two CSIs, leaving Grissom to his own very confused thoughts.

She turned to climb down the ladder from the tank then said, "Oh, I dunno if it is just the profiler in me, but did anyone ever pause to think if the creatures who usually inhabit this tank hold any significance?"

Grissom and Greg shot each other a look that made Taña say, "That's what I thought."

She disappeared and Greg said, "I'll go ask someone..."

"What is it with that girl?" Grissom asked, making Greg pause and say, "Grissom, I've been asking myself that question since the third grade. I still don't have an answer."

"What is your relationship with her?"

Greg smiled mysteriously, "Let's just say history holds it secrets and it probably won't repeat itself."

He walked away, and the echoes of the deeper meaning in the quote echoed in Grissom's ears.

_She wanted to quit, she didn't care how good she was, and that does speak far louder than any ability of hers._

God, he really loved that woman.

* * *

_It was a month until graduation, and Greg Sanders was sitting in science class, sitting next to his best friend, John Dirk. Every few sentences Greg or John would interject the teacher with some sarcastic comment. The main difference was that Greg was smart, even though he never really tried, whereas John was barely clinging to a D._

_"Dude, we have got to do something major for graduation," John whispered in between the teacher talking about some DNA thing. Like Greg was ever gonna use DNA in his future._

_"Like what? We pranked the teacher's lounge last year, pranked prom the year before, and pranked a pep rally freshman year. We should just graduate this year."_

_"Are you crazy man? Muy loco?"_

_"Dude, this is science class."_

_John made a good show of saying things along the lines of, "So THAT'S why I keep getting bad grades..." but he grew serious again and said, "I got a bet for you."_

_They always threw bets at each other._

_"You're such a ladies man, I dare you to get a girl to say she loves you before graduation."_

_Greg waved it off, "Easy as pie, man. Bring it on, I am thinking-"_

_"Oh no, I get to pick the broad."_

_It was then when Greg began to get worried._

_"Mr. Sanders, meet Mrs. Sanders," he joked as he pointed to the girl sitting in front of the class._

_"Oh God, not the Walrus!"___

_"Oh yes, Greg. Oh yes. I'll see you at graduation. I'll tell her about the bet then. Besides, she's The Walrus. It'll be graduation. We will never see her again after that anyhow. It's won't hurt her that bad. Man, this is gonna be great!"_

_John punched Greg's shoulder a little harder than necessary and leaned back, a cocky smile paved on his face._

_Even then, before he had met her, he had his doubts..._

_

* * *

_

"If you're an average layperson, your grasp of high finance consists of knowing your ATM code. So you're probably bewildered by the scandal surrounding the collapse of Enron, which had been the seventh-largest corporation in America. (The sixth largest is the guys who go 'WHASSSSSSSSUP?!')"

-Dave Barry


	9. Illusions

9- "Illusions?"

* * *

Taña walked to Sara and said, "Sara Sidle?"

Sara Sidle looked at her with a cold glance. She must think that Taña was her replacement.

"Agent Szmerka," she said, reaching her and planting herself right in front of Sara, blocking her view of the DB.

"FBI? Since when was this case federal?"

"It isn't, it's a long story. Do you mind if I could shake your hand?"

Sara narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "If your thinking you will find epithelial cells under my nails, then you are going to be wrong."

Taña smiled, "No, you misunderstand me. I just want to shake the hand of the woman who can make Grissom as uncomfortable as if he was sleeping on nails while hopped up on laxatives."

"What did Grissom say about me?" She asked back, way too fast to sound like she didn't care. Taña cocked an eyebrow, "I'm sorry, but that's classified."

Taña knew Sara would have given anything to shoot her right now, but she didn't care. She found it very interesting finding out that such a workaholic like Grissom actually did have a past, and an unfinished one at that. And one so close... she laughed in inward, silent, evil laugh.

The interview went perfectly, and Taña thanked Sara for her work and said, "I'll be sure to send Grissom for the follow up."

She winked and left Sara, who stuttered back, "I... no... you misunderstood..."

* * *

Grissom sat in his office later that day, thinking to himself.

He knew he had taken advantage, she had even threatened to quit before, but he had never heeded her. And now she was gone.

Seeing her that day was amazing. She had changed so much. She would smile a true smile, one he had never seen while she was a CSI. But her eyes still seemed empty. Unfulfilled. Like she was missing something she needed.

His door was open, and Catherine knocked on the door, making him start from his slight daydream. She smiled.

"It was a dead raccoon that had managed to decompose in the air ducts, making it smell a whole lot worse than it should have. Did something happen today? Our Profiler and Level One are actually not killing each other. They were talking to Doc."

"Sara."

Catherine's eyes grew wide, "Sara..."

"No, she didn't die. I saw her today. She works at the zoo."

"How is she? Is she okay? You look worried."

"She looked happy. Genuinely happy." Grissom drifted off into a thoughtful daydream again. Catherine paused in a silent thought. "She isn't."

"What do you know?" Grissom asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"You can't be happy in a job that you weren't destined for."

"What is destiny anyway?" The voice came from the doorway. It was Taña. She realized it was rude and cleared her throat.

"Our floater is Jack Livingston, a 42 year old best selling author. The deceased left behind a teenaged son and a wife. The wound that killed him," She held up a mold, "Is very irregular. We won't be able to tell unless we have something to compare it to. The little weasel and I are going to head over to the house to conduct interviews. Are you coming?"

Grissom looked thoughtful, "What time is it?"

Taña looked down at her watch, "0800."

Grissom shook his head, "I can't come with you. Take my advice: you drive. Greg is a maniac behind the wheel."

She smiled, unimpressed, "I see he had changed a whole lot since high school. I'll be sure to."

Taña turned to leave when Grissom asked, "What _is _destiny?"

She smiled, and answered without turning around, "An illusion created by the human mind to try to grip a world they have no actual control over." She left without another word.

Catherine had a funny look on her face, "Wow. The FBI sounds like fun."

* * *

Sara was back at work again, and was sitting with her legs dipped into the temporary tank where the dolphins were swimming. Nevina and Sara were jumping about, hyper because their show had to be cancelled. Their tank was a crime scene, after all.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop thinking about him. He was like some kind of force. When Grissom was in a room, he seemed so magnetic, not really normal, but so amazing you just wanted to be near him so you could figure him out. He was so confusing and addicting, like some kind of human puzzle you were racing to solve. A game of sorts.

Sara had won his game once, back when they were together, and she had finally felt completed. Like she was in the right place. The sick feeling of incompleteness has eaten her away ever since.

_But you're happy. Just you and your friends._

"You understand me, don't you 'Vina?" Sara asked, patting the dolphin's head and smiling. "No one can ever tell me animals don't have souls."

"And no one could ever tell me that destiny is an illusion..."

It was Gil.

* * *

"Stick that in your pipe and smoke it."

-Dr. Evil


	10. Apologies and a Car Crash

10- "Apologies and Car Crash"

* * *

Sara jumped up, spooking Nevina, causing her to swim away rapidly.

"Hi." She stated, trying to look natural.

Grissom smiled an inward smile. She was barefoot and had her jeans rolled up to her knees.

"Hello, Sara." Her name seemed almost foreign to his lips.

Awkward silence.

_Now or never, Gil.__ She's staring at you._

_Now or never, Sara.__ He's looking at you._

"I'm sorry."

It was spoken from both parties, and at the exact same time. That was all that needed to be said.

* * *

Meanwhile, Taña and Greg were driving.

"Take a left up here. A left."

"Yeah, I know, I'm not deaf." Taña snapped back.

She took a right just to tick him off.

"Okay, that was so not funny." Greg said, leaning over to grab the wheel while they still were driving. Taña looked over at him incredulously, "What are you doing?"

"I'm aiming you."

"Don't make me hurt you, Greg. Get your hands..."

"I'm just aiming you, shut up, you big, whiny..."

"Boy, I clobbered you before and I will not hesitate..."

"Just make a U-Turn right..."

"Greg, you're invading my personal bubble."

"I've invaded it before, and I didn't hear you complaining..."

"Oh, Greggo, you did _not _just go there..."

"Watch out!!" Greg shrieked, not as manly as he would have hoped, but enough to get the effect he wanted: Taña swerved to the right and avoided crashing into the car that magically appeared in front of them.

They landed in the ditch in a cloud of dust. Greg slipped off of his seat and landed in Taña's lap. He smiled up at her.

"Hi, you."

"You see, this is why they invented seatbelts," Taña said, shoving him off harshly and Greg replied by doing a very good impression of a hissing cat.

They backed out of the ditch and somehow managed to get to the victim's house without murdering each other.

They walked up to the door and Greg knocked. A police man opened the door, they were there to tell the wife, and gestured to the dining room, where an attractive woman and an equally attractive teenage son sat, looking devastated.

"Mrs. Livingston?"

She looked up with tear stained eyes.

"My name is Greg Sanders, from the crime lab, and this is Agent Taña Szmerka from the FBI. Can we ask you a few questions about your husband?"

She nodded, and her son leaned over and placed a reassuring hand on her leg.

"What's your name?" Taña asked, gesturing over to the seventeen year old. He looked up like he just noticed Taña. He shot her a brief, odd look, and then said, "Jeremy Livingston."

Greg wondered what Taña was on about, but he needed to get these questions done.

"When was the last time you saw your husband?"

"Three nights ago. We had... gotten into a fight."

"Did he hit you, Mrs. Livingston?" Taña jumped in, and everyone shot her a look of surprise.

_There is no way she could determine that by two sentences, _Greg thought to himself.

The look Vivica Livingston returned immediately made Greg reconsider his doubts with criminal profiling.

"I... I..."

"You don't need to avoid me, Mrs. Livingston," Taña said, drawing closer for a pressuring effect. "Your husband is dead now. Please tell me what could have lead to his demise."

"Agent, if you are suggesting that my husband beat me, then you are absolutely wrong. I loved my husband!"

Taña had this look like was about to say something but she kept her tongue, "Jeremy, can I have an interview with you?"

Vivica was about to protest, but Jeremy put a hand up to stop her, "Don't worry, I'll go."

Taña nodded to Greg and walked into a separate room, leaving Greg alone to talk to Vivica. Greg wondered if that entire, pushy-FBI-Agent act was just so she could separate the two. He continued to question her and finally finished and Taña and Greg congregated outside, heading back to the car.

Taña put her sunglasses on, "Well, that was interesting."

Greg shook his head at her, "What... how... what..."

"Yes?"

"What is the dealie-yo-yo?"

"The what?" Taña asked. Greg shrugged and they stopped at the car. Both hands reached for the driver's door handle.

"You wanna drive again? No thank you, I have no real suicidal urges today." Greg said, opening the door, but Taña planted herself in front of it.

"First off, you grabbed the wheel and invaded my personal bubble."

"Your personal bubble...?"

"SECONDLY, I am not entrusting the wheel of this car to a skinny, white scientist who just freely used the phrase 'dealie-yo-yo'."

Greg looked defeated, "I call shotgun."

Taña smiled and climbed into the driver's side.

* * *

"Nevina is a three year old Spinner Dolphin. They're called that because when they jump, they spin on their longitudinal axis." Sara was pointing to Nevina, as she and Grissom where sitting, legs in the water, talking.

"What's the baby's name?" Grissom asked, always his curious self.

Sara blushed, "Sara, actually."

Grissom lifted an eyebrow, silently asking her to explain.

"Well, she was a premature baby, and if I had not been checking the tanks that night no one would have noticed that Nevina was bleeding..." She let her voice trail off, and looked off into the distance.

The sun hit her face just right, and Grissom was amazed, not just at her incredible beauty, but at her presence. She seemed so totally content. So happy.

"We miss you, Sara. We all do."

"But what if I don't miss you?"

* * *

The next night, Grissom was in his office again. He was thinking about her for the umpteenth time.

She seemed happy, but in her eyes she almost seemed empty; void of all emotions. He was worried about her. He knew it was stupid, but he knew how hard it could be on her, starting a new life for herself.

He was so worried. He lifted himself off his chair and started walking.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, that it was unprofessional, but he needed to know something.

He walked over to computer analysis and stopped abruptly at the door. Taña was working on Jack Livingston's computer.

He knocked on the door and she spun the chair around to face him.

"I need you." He said.

* * *

"Karate is a form of martial arts in which people who have had years and years of training can, using only their hands and feet, make some of the worst movies in the history of the world."

- Dave Barry


	11. Profiling Sidle

11- "Profiling Sidle"

* * *

Taña's smile slowly crept to her lips. "Beg your pardon?"

"No, no, not like that," He said quickly, shutting the door behind him.

She smiled again. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then said, cautiously and quietly, "I need advice... er... _professional_ advice."

Her smile disappeared as she looked behind Grissom, "Oh my God, did you see that?"

Grissom spun around and said, "What?"

Taña shook her head, "That was weird, I could have sworn I just saw a flying pig. Anyhow, yes Gil, Gil Grissom, how can I help you today?"

"I need psychological help."

Beat.

"Tell me something I don't know," She smirked, turning back to the computer with a squeak from the chair. Grissom stood there, staring her down with a "give me a break" stare, and she spun back around and said, in a fake way, "Oh, you mean about some_one_. Who?"

Grissom paused, "A friend."

"Whoa, whoa there, Bug-Boy, I don't do normal people. I do psychos. Murderers live on impulses, makes them easy to predict, but normal people live with all these repressed feelings and are all bottled up inside... but... who?"

"A friend."

"Sara Sidle?"

"How did you..."

"Uh, hello Grissom, I'm a profiler. Anyhow, yes, I will help you and try my best."

Grissom nodded, then cleared his throat and said, "Is she... this might sound stupid, but is she at risk by any harm from..."

"Herself?" Taña asked, reading Grissom's mind as he gaped at her. She ignored him, and continued on with the air of someone talking about the weather, "Well there is only one way I can profile a person."

"How?"

"Work backwards."

"From where?"

"The murder."

"But Sara has-"

"Imagination Grissom. Let me draw upon past experiences and my training.

"If Sara were to kill someone, I would classify it as a Necessity Killing, even though he or she knows it is wrong, he or she would still do it because they believe they have to. She would kill in a personal way, asphyxiation, perhaps poison.

"The victimology would be very important. She would know the victim, be close to said victim, be very close emotionally. She would pose the body. Not a full body pose, but she would cover the face.

"She would kill out of a self-professed necessity; either consequence or personal emotional struggle. She would be messy, only because of a subconscious desire to be caught."

She looked at Grissom with a dark stare.

"As for danger to herself... from the Sara I have met and heard stories about... she would never..."

Grissom was still transfixed by the FBI agent in front of him who had morphed from a likable woman to a dark shadow of a person.

"The one thing that scares me, though, is... well... there are a few kinds of killers. There are impulse killers, then there are hesitation killers, and killers with a self-perceived purpose, too... the ones that do it and are shocked later, the others who doubt up until the very moment if they can do it, the ones who know and do it with not a single doubt in their mind. She would have no hesitation to kill her ex-lover. No doubts."

She paused, realizing she had gone too far as Grissom jumped in surprise.

"She would kill _me?"_

Taña said nothing.

"You... you can tell that?"

"This isn't a job, this is a lifestyle. There is a thin line between a killer and a profiler. A very thin line. Profiling is..."

"A blessed curse." Grissom finished, drifting off as Taña nodded.

Grissom began to walk out when he spun around and said, "If it is such a lifestyle, then... do you profile everyone you meet?"

"Blessed curse." She repeated.

"Then... who would I kill?"

"You're not like anyone I have ever met... people fall into such terribly predictable patterns... so much predictability, yet you never fail to surprise me. There are few people who can do that to me."

"Who else?"

"One other..." She turned to the door, but Grissom said, "Wait, you never told me who I would kill."

She smiled, back to her normal self, "Er... no comment. Prefer not to disclose said information..."

Grissom stared at her.

"Wow, you got the 'profiler stare', very scary. When you are a profiler, you usually have not a lot to work with. The job gets harder the more information you know. From what I've seen, Grissom, I would say... yourself."

She left Grissom to his thoughts.

* * *

"I believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy."

-Tom Clancy


	12. Coffee and Geometry

12- "Coffee and Geometry"

* * *

Taña returned to reading Livingston's laptop, trying to find a clue of his death. Blunt force trauma, a unique body dump site. Perhaps a personal necessity killing, perhaps he was pressuring someone and in the heat of the moment the other person felt they needed to kill him and improvised with some kind of object that was within reach. It could have also been an accident, but the body dumping proves slight malicious intent.

After scanning his recent internet sites visited and checking his email, she decided to open his Word Pad and see how is novel in writing had been going. There were many stories on there, many just mere beginnings of a novel, but the one that stuck out was this suspense novel he had been writing and was pretty far into.

She began reading and two hours later finally finished.

Greg poked his head into the office. "Is there a reason a 'déjà vu' just paged me?"

Taña nodded and gestured him over, "This novel is bizarre, Greg. It bares a strange, eerie resemblance to his own death."

"Really?" Greg said, leaning over her to get a good look at the laptop, his head coming over her shoulder to read.

"So, the main character in this story is a married author, right? On his second marriage, happy and all of that is flushed down the crapper when they go on a trip with his slightly emotionally estranged son to a... get this... zoo."

Greg raised an eyebrow.

"Now, his son is in his late teens, so he obviously doesn't dig the whole 'zoo' thing, but is struck by an attractive zoo-keeper. The funny thing is, the hot shot daddy author is too, causing an even deeper rift in the family. Now, the story is told by the perspective of the author man, who strongly suspects a relationship between his son and the attractive, always remains nameless zookeeper, so when he finally goes to confront his son and this zookeeper, he winds up falling even further in love with the zookeeper, and by that I mean about a five page love scene. You following me so far?"

"Classic love-triangle with a 'close encounters of the furred kind' twist. Sure, I'm following." Greg said, leaning in closer for the ending as Taña shot him a look but didn't say anything.

"So, he's desperately in love with this unknown zookeeper, but his son is in love too, but not to who he thinks... then, the story takes an odd turn."

"What's that?"

"So, something changes the zookeeper halfway through their love tryst, and she starts blabbing about how the man she really loves actually loves someone else."

"So, okay: son and father fall in love with zookeeper, son gets it on with zookeeper, then dad gets it on with the zookeeper, then zookeeper admits to dad that she is really just in love with the son, who loves someone else."

Taña shook her head, "We never find who her love is. He died before he could write the end. And get this, the last sentence is: 'My Lady walked away, leaving me for a man I could never know, and an anger that filled me with such a fury that I knew I would find this man, and I would kill him, or myself.' Now, this sentence was written not like any of the rest of the story, and words were spelled wrong, as if he was so angry not to bother to spell check."

Greg whistled, "Like, maybe he started to write a story that ran slightly adjacent to his life, but then..."

Taña finished his sentence for him, "Maybe he began to not know which was which."

"A twisted reality." They both stated at the exact same time, then both said, "Oh, shut up."

"Hey kids," Catherine said as she stood at the door, with an eyebrow lifted. "Sorry to interrupt."

They shot each other a look and realized the position they were in, really close, their lips were only two centimeters apart, smiling because they just hit a slight break on their case. That didn't look good.

They repelled away from each other like the wrong ends of magnets, both stammering, "No, no, no, nonononono."

Catherine smiled in a coy way, "Uh-huh. Right." Her voice was so thick with sarcasm that it seemed to drip onto the floor. "So, what did you two find?"

"His novel is strangely reminiscent to his life... and death."

Catherine looked pensive, "I was just going to head over to interview the wife again, about an odd bank bill. Who wants to come?"

Greg jumped up and walked towards her and didn't even immediately notice that Taña did not follow him. "What are you doing?"

"I am going to stay here and try to read more in on the unfinished book. Jack Livingston had some dark, dark thoughts."

* * *

The interviews gave them no more information, and the days slowly passed. Taña continued to believe the novel held some sort of hidden clue, and read it onto the verge of memorization.

Greg read and reread the files, trying to find a loophole. It was a while later, a month actually, when the case had to be closed, and another month after that Greg and Taña finally began to think differently.

Actually, it was just Taña. Greg was on break, drinking his coffee and reading yet another surfing magazine when Taña ran into the room, but she had done it so silently that Greg was startled by her saying: "I got it!" He spilled his drink all over his shirt.

He moaned in pain as he stood up, steaming, emotionally and physically.

"It burns!" He grunted, and Taña said, "Okay, I don't want to know about your numerous STD's, Greg." He rolled his eyes. "You never quit, do you?"

She smiled, "Heck no. Where's the fun in that?"

Greg paused, then said, "You know... you're going to make one lucky man very, very confused one day."

She winked, "So, I caught a break in the Livingston case." She spun around to grab file behind her, and when she whipped around Greg was blotting his shirt off with a napkin.

She rolled her eyes and walked towards him and said, "That's not going to work. Coffee stains. Your teeth, your clothes, your breath, coffee stains everything. I never will drink the stuff, even though it is almost a regulation in the bureau that you have to."

He continued to blot, and Taña continued on about the case, and he continued to not listen to her.

"So, I rented some of Livingston's books from the library and stuff, mostly romance novels, very boring and more graphic than I thought. Anyhow, I- are you listening?"

Greg was still blotting. He grunted an answer, clearly showing he wasn't listening at all. Taña narrowed her eyes at him, but he definitely didn't take the hint. Her patience ran dry.

"Jus take the shirt off!" She snarled at Greg, who shot her a surprised look.

"Oh, baby, who told you I dig the dominate type?" Greg smirked back, still blotting and irritating Taña more because he wasn't listening to her, so she walked over to him and started to grab his shirt.

"Excuse me, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking your shirt off."

"Might I ask why?"

"Because now this room smells like sweat and coffee and it is giving me a headache, and because you are using your one brain cell to blot your shirt and not to listen to me."

In one fluid motion, she slid his shirt off his torso and threw it behind her.

Grissom was walking over to the break room, and passed by a window just as Taña was pulling Greg's shirt off. He did a quick double take and stopped in his tracks.

"Do they teach you this stuff in the FBI, or are you just naturally good at turning me on?"

"Greg, you are built just like a DNA strand: skinny and boney."

"Ouch. Science insults. Well, you're built like a ribosome. Skinny on top, wide on the bottom. Y'know, like a schmoo."

"That's not true."

"I know, but how many cell organelles can you compare to a human body?"

Grissom decided to skip coffee that break.

* * *

Greg, dressed in a lab coat and his stained jeans, sat across from her and said, "So, what is so important that you interrupt my coffee break to rip my shirt off?"

"So, I was reading the unfinished novel when I started to think like an author. This was a classic love triangle, but it was actually a love quadrilateral because the unknown zookeeper's love was in love with someone else."

"A love quadrilateral? Why don't you just say square?"

"Why do you care?"

"Nothing. So, tell me more of this love parallelogram." He smiled in a cocky way and allowed her to continue.

"Anyways, what I said before, I had rented his books and profiled him sort of off of them. In all his stories, he always made a simple plot twist but made it seem like it wasn't, then I realized something: we should compare this to his life. Zookeeper; wife, Vivica; and son, Jeremy. Then, it hit me like a drunk driver."

"What?"

"On the second page of the novel, like it was staring at me the entire time. It said Jeremy was from his _first _wife, and that makes the interview make sense."

"What interview?"

"The real reason I had purposefully separated Jeremy and Vivica during the first interview was because Jeremy had put his hand on her thigh while trying to comfort her. Not a very son-like thing to do, but I immediately dismissed it because I thought she was his mother, but," she held up a certificate for divorce photocopy, "I found this baby staring at me and I realized something else, too."

Greg was definitely getting interested, "What?"

"Vivca Livingston is only 29 years old. I just thought she was fifty with some silicon and internal staples, when it turns out she's just young. So, I'm thinking the zookeeper really loved the son, but the son loves the mother!"

She sat there proudly, like she had just won a contest. "So, four vertexes on the love quadrilateral gives us four suspects, and the zookeeper is the obvious choice because of the dump site, but we need to go interview Jeremy first, to find out who the zookeeper is."

Greg just sat there, staring at her, "And, you are basing all of these suspicions on...?"

"A pat on the thigh."

Greg smiled, "I thought it was all based on geometry."

She looked at him, annoyed, and the stare she gave him made him clear his throat and say, "Okay, let's go interview!"

* * *

Sara awoke the next day, the sun in her face, feeling very hung over.

Then, the night's events crashed onto her as she looked to her left, where Gil slept soundly.

_Shit._

* * *

"Bisexuality immediately doubles your chances for a date on Saturday night."

-Rodney Dangerfield


	13. Muy Loca

13- "Muy Loca"

* * *

"Gil!" Sara shrieked, jumping out of bed in horror, "What are you _doing?"_

He snorted as he awoke, and said, "Huh?"

"Gil, please, tell me we didn't... that we didn't..."

Gil smiled, "No, Sara, c'mon. You were drunk; there is no way I would do that to you. Give me some credit."

"You swear?"

"Sara, you're still wearing your clothes."

She looked down and blushed horribly. She hadn't noticed that.

He groggily lifted himself out of her bed and rubbed his eyes. He knew Sara didn't remember what she had said the night before, she being someone who rarely drinks to extremes, but that didn't stop him from remembering.

"Sara, I need to know." He said suddenly.

"Need to know what?"

"Sara, it's been five months since you left. We've been hanging out as friends for months, and it is wonderful, but I have got to know: is there any hope? That day, the day you left, the day of the interview, I meant everything I said. My life is nothing but regret, but I would do it again if I knew I would be able to be with you, if just for the brief period we were."

She began to speak, but Gil interrupted, "Please, Sara. I need the truth. It is neither one of our faults that we parted, and I truly called you to Las Vegas during the Holly Gribbs case because you are a wonderful CSI. You hurt all of us when you left, but it hurts me most because I know you left because of me, and not because of the job."

Sara looked at Gil, the only man who could rip her in two, but also the only man who could make her feel totally safe, content... so loved. It wasn't Gil to just pour his heart out like that, and he looked tired, like the thought of actually letting all his feelings out wore him down.

That was when she walked towards him, and finally kissed him.

* * *

_It took one whole week after graduation for Greg to finally summon the courage to go over to Taña's house and apologize. The bet he and John had made was terrible, and went horribly awry._

_He knocked on the Szmerka's door, and her parent's opened the door and fixed Greg with the scariest stare ever. They looked sick... like the thought of Greg revolted them. Like he was some kind of monster._

_"Is Taña here? I need to apologize."_

_"No, she isn't. She left for college, and no thanks to you. Leave our household immediately." Mr. Szmerka ordered, and the normally jolly, happy Mrs. Szmerka said, "Oh Greg, how could you? She loved you, we all did. Why did you do this?"_

_The door was slammed in his face._

* * *

Greg and Taña knocked on the Livingston's door, and still no one answered.

"Do you think she skipped town? She's running, I'm sure of it."

Greg rolled his eyes, "You are such a pessimist."

"I'm not a pessimist, I just focus on the logic in each and every situation, and the logic always tends to be pessimistic."

"You know, the more I hang out with you, the more frightened I become of the FBI."

"What makes you think the FBI made me this way?"

"Look, Taña, I told you I was sorry about-"

"Drop it Greg. That was ten years ago-"

"You guys looking for the Livingstons?"

Greg and Taña whipped around to see a pleasant looking man walking two dogs.

"Yes, can you tell us where they are?"

"Viv and Jeremy went to Lake Powell for the week. Left yesterday. You with the editing company? You know, Jack died awhile ago-"

"No, we aren't." Taña said, smiling, "But thank you for telling us." Right then, her cell phone rang and she answered it with: "Szmerka."

She paused, and laughed, and Greg stood there, looking back at the house in a bored way and the man walking the dogs left. Then, Taña burst into a round of Spanish chatter into the phone, shocking Greg.

"Eres no seriosa... ¿Verdad? Oh, por favor, yo te conozco y tú nunca- ¿Qué? Yo te dije! Sí, yo hice." She paused again as the person on the other end was talking, and looked at Greg, who was gaping at her, and she said suddenly, "Necesito ir. Sí. Yo halbaré con tí luego. Adíos."

She hung up the phone and said, "So, who wants to go to Lake Powell?"

Greg was thunderstruck, "You can speak Spanish?"

Taña smiled and walked towards the car, "I dunno what you're talking about. Let's go."

Greg smiled and shook his head. This girl was muy loca. He passed their trash, and continued walking but paused and walked back and stared at it in a curious manner.

Taña was in the car, staring at him, talking to herself. "What the heck is that guy doing?" She opened her door and walked over to him.

"Greg, what the heck are you doing?"

He remained silent, apparently very deep in thought.

She went over to him and knocked on his head, "Uh, thinking deep thoughts or thinking no thoughts?"

"Where is the mold?"

Taña stared at him,"Huh?"

"The mold of Jack's wound. His head wound."

Taña paused, "I suppose it's with evidence back at the lab. Why?"

Greg pointed at the trash. The Livingston's were throwing out all of Jack's old stuff, and in the trash was a Bowflex machine. Greg pointed to one of the bars sticking out of it. It matched the mold perfectly.

Greg opened up his case and pulled out some luminal and sprayed every single one of the bars that stuck out, and the very last one turned a bright blue. A very bright blue.

"Holy crap." They both stated in unison, and it was the first time they didn't get mad at each other. They stood there in a stunned silence after Greg swabbed it, and finally Taña said, "How long of a drive is it to Lake Powell?"

Greg smiled, "Depends on whose driving."

* * *

So, a day later, Greg and Taña were driving to Lake Powell, a 267 mile trip estimating. They had heard through mutual friends of the Livingston's that they leave off from Wahweap Marina, in Arizona, on their yacht, but the trip there was still four and a half hours in a cramped space, two enemies and no good radio stations.

They had called ahead and told the Arizona police that they now had a warrant on suspicion of murder on Vivica and Jeremy Livingston, but not to pursue until they arrived. Grissom was accompanying them on the trip but was driving his own car ahead of them, and Greg was driving his car, and Taña was in the passenger seat, staring out the window.

"You know, we do need a profiler. We would have never suspected the son and wife angle."

"We still don't know that's true or not."

"Still, we closed the case, and it would have stayed closed if-"

"Greg? Shut up."

"Okay."

They drove in more silence as Taña silently wished to herself they had flown, but it was cheaper driving. About two hours into the trip she finally fell asleep.

Greg drove on as the sun slowly set and Taña snoozed in the front seat, twisted in an odd angle in a failed attempt to become more comfortable. Her face was contorted in her dream, a pained look on her face. Greg saw her twitching and grunting and started to ponder waking her up when she did so herself, jerking awake suddenly.

"Good morning, sunshine." Greg said, as she rubbed her eyes and groaned.

"Have any good dreams?"

"You were in it."

Greg looked out into the road with a thoughtful glance and Taña said, "Not in a good way. It's just... you wear the same cologne that you wore back in High School."

"So?"

"So, memories are connected to scent. Bad memories."

Just then, Greg's cell rang.

"Greg? The police are at the marina now, and we got about five more minutes until we reach there. Are you ready?"

"Ready for anything. Perhaps a good swim."

"See you in a few, Greg." Grissom hung up. They arrived at the marina and Greg and Grissom grabbed their evidence collection boxes as they all strapped on their guns and walked over to the lobby. There was one cop.

Grissom walked up, "What is this? Where is our search party?"

The cop looked up at Grissom in a bored way, "It's dark. We don't search when it gets dark. There is no point. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home now that you guys finally got here. We meet here at six o'clock." He paid for his drink and walked out without another word, leaving Grissom silently swearing to himself.

"What-"

"0100 hours." Taña answered, reading his mind again, and Grissom said, "We sleep in the cars tonight."

"_What?!"_ both Taña and Greg said as he walked out, but the door shut behind him.

"I am not sleeping with you." Taña said, and stomped out, leaving just Greg in the lobby, and the receptionist gave him a sidelong look, and he smiled at her and shrugged, then hurried out into the darkness.

* * *

Through Taña's mad arguing skills, Greg and Grissom wound up in Grissom's Explorer, and Taña was sleeping in Greg's sedan. They had bought a camping spot so as not to get a ticket for loitering, and two hours into the night neither Greg nor Grissom had gotten any sleep at all.

"How did you meet Taña?" Grissom asked, more desperate for conversation because of the boredom. Greg smiled.

"I met her in the third grade. Actually, the first time I met her was when I picked a fight with her in the recess lot. She threw one punch and I was out like a light bulb."

Grissom looked thoughtful, "Yeah, I can believe that."

"So- okay, not funny- it turns out that she had just moved to San Gabriel that summer and she and I shared the exact same birthday, so, at school, we both invited everyone to our parties, both of which were on the same day. So, I got angry with her for sharing the same birthday, and I challenged her to a fight outside during recess, to see who would get the class to attend. The rest is history... or... really... the rest I can't remember because of brain damage."

"What ended up happening?"

"Our mothers made us share a birthday party, black eye and all. We kind of became friends after that, but went our separate ways in high school."

"So, you two, mature grown up investigators constantly argue about a birthday party? That is so incredibly sad and pathetic."

Greg blushed, even though Grissom couldn't see him. "Well, that's not the real reason. You see, in our senior year I, uh, well... accepted a dare to see if I could go out with her and get her to say she loved me before graduation."

"Wow, Greg, a new low."

"I know, and I actually did start to fall for her... but then graduation came and my friend told her about the dare and she thought I was lying the entire time, even though I wasn't. She went off to college and I never saw her again. I never had a chance to explain."

"But why did you choose her? She's very attractive, she's nice. Where's the humor in this?"

Greg blushed harder. "We called her the walrus... because... oh this is so terrible... she was fat, and had the worst buckteeth I had ever seen."

"Wow."

"But... I really fell for her. Hard. I was able to look past all that."

"Have you told her?"

"Yeah, about eight months later I got a phone number and called her and told her everything, but she hated me so much it didn't matter. I was stupid; I know that, even back then. That was ten years ago. I never thought I would see her again."

"Well, at least you two arguing makes sense now, but stop it. It's really annoying and unprofessional."

Greg rolled his eyes and awoke the next morning, cramped and really warm because the car insulated the body heat from two uncomfortable scientists, to Taña tapping on the window wearing a wetsuit. It was still dark.

"Ready to go searching?" She yelled through the window, and winked at him.

* * *

"A disturbing new study finds that studies are disturbing."

-Ellen Degeneres


	14. Lake Powell

14- "Lake Powell"

* * *

The plan to find the boat was simple, yet exceedingly difficult: find the boat of the Livingston's (the yacht "Great Mystery" named for Jack's first novel) and bring them in for questioning.

The problem? 186 miles long. Over 2,000 miles of shorelines. 96 major canyons that shoot off the lake, some of which are 15 to 20 miles in length. The police had a main boat, and police officers would all be on the easiest form of transportation: wave runners, searching every canyon, starting at the marina and heading northeast.

Grissom stayed back on the main boats, but Greg and Taña were dressed to the nines in skintight wet suits, listening to instructions from the main police officer.

"Okay, the yacht we are looking for is called 'The Great Mystery'. Two suspects on board, a young, Caucasian male, seventeen years old named Jeremy Livingston. 29 year old female, Vivica Livingston. Suspected of murder, so be very cautious. Do not approach boat without the consent of CSI Grissom, me or FBI Special Agent Szmerka. CSI Grissom and I are going to be on Boat One, set your radio frequencies to channel 18, we set a secure channel there. Special Agent Szmerka will be on wave runner 14. You all have your secure directions to which canyon you search. Agent Szmerka is section leader for wave runners. When done with your canyon radio us and we will direct you to another. We do not stop until the sun goes down, until we find them, or until we hit Hite Marina at the other end. The sun has begun to rise; we begin now."

The huge crowd of police officers ran down to the shoreline, most certainly scaring away any potential beach goers for that day, and everyone climbed on to their assorted boats, Boat One in the lead as they slowly boated out of the marina and into the middle of the lake. Boat One shut off the engines, drifting, as Taña lead all the wave runners slowly pass the boat. They paused for a second of pure silence as the sun finally rose and began to warm the officers.

Then, Taña's voice on the radio. "Let's go!"

The revving of many engines broke the calm morning air as all the wave runners shot off, at high speeds, into different directions. The search had begun.

7 wave runners and five more speedboats were patrolling the main lake, whereas 43 other wave runners sped off into the distance. 55 search engines, and 96 canyons to go.

* * *

Greg let out a teenage whoop as he flew over the waves at top speed, the water spraying at his face as he sped over to hit his canyon. He wanted to find the Livingstons, but not quite yet. This was awesome. He and Taña had the canyon furthest northeast, so they had the longest distance to travel in a short amount of time. They cut off most small canyons, the ones a yacht couldn't fit in, and he and Taña were heading over to the longest canyon offshoot of the lake: San Juan River Arm. They approached it, some officers' voices cackled saying which various canyon was cleared.

They reached the middle of the canyon at around 12:30, and Taña motioned to Greg to stop near her and take a small break. They each had a refill of gas they were tugging around and they figured it was the time to refill the tanks. By listening to their radios, Boat One was slowly moving towards them, near Dangling Rope Marina.

"CSI Sanders and Agent Szmerka, do you copy?"

"Yes, we copy."

"What is your position?"

"We are halfway down San Juan River Arm. Nothing yet."

"Good, keep us posted."

They got back on their boats and sped off again, and turned a sharp corner and they both saw it at the same time. "The Great Mystery" was beached near a little shore.

"Wow." Taña said, "Look what we found."

Greg smiled, "I'll call it in."

Taña retrieved her binoculars and looked through them, sizing the situation. Greg finished as Boat One replied "Copy. Do not let them see you."

"Copy."

"Oh, holy shit!" Taña said, making Greg almost drop the radio.

"What?" He asked.

"Well, I was right about the son/mother relationship thing. Look at the second window."

He grabbed his binoculars and looked through them.

"Holy cow! I didn't even know it was possible to twist that way!" He removed the binoculars. "That is some hardcore stuff. I can't even watch."

So they drifted there, sitting in the hot sun, the waves making their boats bounce around in a sickly way, trying not to think of the scenario in the boat anchored near them. Greg was looking away from Taña when he heard a splash, and her wave runner was empty, and her lifejacket was hung on the handle.

She surfaced in between their wave runners, smiling. "I can't take that sun anymore! How can you live in a desert everyday?"

"You get used to it. Geronimo!" He jumped off his wave runner as she swam away rapidly to avoid being crushed. They swam around serenely and were whispering, as if the Livingston's would hear them, but when Taña was attempting to get back on her boat Greg said suddenly, without even thinking, "I really did love you, you know."

Taña slipped and fell back into the water in surprise. He swam up near her, and she swam backwards, spooked at his sudden change of character.

"Greg... that was ages ago... I guess I should have been a little more sympathetic, but you were extremely mean to go and do that. So selfish and cruel. Why are you getting so close to me?"

"I need to know... did you love me?"

"Oh, Greg." She said, and she looked sad, almost scared of him, "Greg, there is no purpose to dwell on lost dreams. We were young, and I got over it. We were different people... what are you doing?"

Greg smiled, "I think... yes... I think I am going to kiss you."

"Uh..." But before he could, a sound of an arriving engine alerted them to Boat One's soon arrival and they broke apart and clamored back onto their wave runners. Taña tried to avoid his gaze, but Greg was trying to gain eye contact, but they had more important things to concentrate on right then. Boat One docked on the same beach, and the other people on the wave runners stayed out on the water as Greg and Taña beached too, and Grissom handed both of them their guns and they walked over to the boat.

It wasn't hard to find the two (they were being quite loud) but they knocked the door down anyway as the cop with them yelled "FREEZE!" and four guns were pointed at them.

Vivica and Jeremy were surprised, to put it in a good way, and they both struggled to put on their clothes only to be handcuffed and lead away. It was then when Taña noticed the camera and all the videos.

She pointed, and Greg smirked and mouthed the word "kinky". They gathered all the tapes. Some were labeled "diary", other obviously labeled "porn". Greg said, "Nick is going to have some fun analyzing these tapes."

Taña rolled her eyes, "Just don't let him bring them home with him."

They laughed and the boat was driven in, put on a tow truck, and was towed back to the LVCL. Taña, Greg and Grissom were back in the lobby at the main marina, and thanked the Arizona and Utah police for their time and effort, and two squad cars were being used to bring the suspects, separate, back to Las Vegas, where CSI had jurisdiction.

* * *

It was night fall when they finally began to get ready to drive back to Las Vegas. Taña had excused herself to go to the restroom and while she was washing her hands she took a good long look at herself in the mirror. She had a slightly pink face from the sun, and she felt a little wobbly from being on water all day. It was going to be a long night ahead of her, so she opened her bag and took a sleeping pill she rarely used but often needed. She didn't want to dream of Greg again.

She walked out of the bathroom to find Greg waiting for her.

"Ready to go?" She asked, but he came right up to her and kissed her, knocking her back into the wall with a loud din. When he parted from her, he said, "I've wanted to do that since graduation. Let's go."

Taña was still flabbergasted as she followed him out to his car, and in the dark she threw him up against the car and kissed him.

"I've wanted to do that since third grade." She whispered, and then got into the passenger's seat. Greg smiled stupidly and drove after Grissom.

It was dark, and they were in silence when Taña said, "Greg, I have to tell you something."

"What?"

"I've been... hiding... something... from... you... Wow, these sleeping pills work really well." She said, slowly drifting off.

"Sleeping pills?" Greg asked, but Taña was already passed out, and Greg shrugged and continued to drive. Their night was just beginning.

* * *

A/N: damn good sleeping pills, I must say!

"There's a new medical crisis. Doctors are reporting that many men are having allergic reactions to latex condoms. They say they cause severe swelling. So what's the problem?"

-Dustin Hoffman


	15. Interviews

15- "Interviews"

* * *

Greg awoke Taña with a cup of coffee and a kind smile. She was in the parking lot of the LVCL, and she saw the boat being towed into the garage and the rush of the chase got her up better than any cup of coffee. Grissom, Taña and Greg made their way to interrogation.

"Okay, Vivica is in interrogation room #1. Taña gets that one. Jeremy is in Interrogation room #2, Greg and I will question him. What are you doing?"

He looked at Taña, who had her finger on her nose, "I was expecting 'Nose Goes.'"

Grissom rolled his eyes and walked over to room #2, followed by Greg, as Taña headed into room #1. The interrogations had begun.

--

SUSPECT #1: Vivica Livingston

"He's seventeen years old. He's a big boy now. And I mean that in more than one way. You follow me, Agent?"

"Okay, thank you for the over-share, Mrs. Livingston."

--

SUSPECT #2: Jeremy Livingston

"She's not really my mother. She's twelve years older than me; so what? I love her and she loves me. After I graduate we are going to get married. She told me this herself. Age is just a number. 69, for instance."

--

SUSPECT #1: Vivica Livingston

"So, you bust in on our vacation to catch me for statutory rape. Trust me, that won't fly; I asked my lawyer. Jeremy was very... how you say... consensual. Go on- charge me. I'll be out in time to watch 'Law and Order.'"

"Mrs. Livingston? Do us both a favor and stop thinking about sex. We were thinking along the lines of murder."

--

SUSPECT #2: Jeremy Livingston

"_Murder?!_I thought we were over this. I did not kill my father- trust me."

"A lot more killers would go free if we trusted everyone who told us to, Mr. Livingston. _Trust us_ on that one."

--

SUSPECT #1: Vivica Livingston

"On our Bowflex? We were going to throw that thing out; I always told Jack he worked too hard."

"The amount of blood we found was very significant; blood on the Blowflex, blood on the ground underneath your bear throw rug..."

"He fell down the stairs."

"Mrs. Livingston, please. Your bear throw rug _upstairs._"

"Oh."

--

SUSPECT #2: Jeremy Livingston

"I swear... I didn't... oh God... no... I didn't do anything... I got home, and I knew Dad knew about Viv and I.... so I threw him across the room... and he accidentally hit the Bowflex... there was so much blood..."

"Uh, can we get a box of tissues in here? Or three?"

--

SUSPECT #1: Vivica Livingston

"That bastard was screwing some lady! What was I supposed to do?"

"Have sex with his son? Please, Mrs. Livingston, I am far beyond sympathizing with you."

"Okay, I had just gotten home from work and went upstairs... there was blood everywhere... Jeremy said he needed to do it, that Jack had found out about us... He's crazy about us."

"How did you find out about the affair?"

--

SUSPECT #2: Jeremy Livingston

"She hired some crackpot private investigator. That guy was crazy, but told Mom-Viv- that Dad was screwing some zookeeper."

--

SUSPECT #1: Vivica Livingston

"Private O' Hare was very good. He came highly recommended. He was good. Very good."

"In bed?"

"Don't stereotype me, Agent."

"Not good for the pores?"

"So maybe a couple of times- but it was all for the work."

"Of course it was, Mrs. Robinson. Livingston. I mean Livingston."

--

SUSPECT #2: Jeremy Livingston

"_She slept with him?_ That good for nothing slut of a mother! She told me to take the blame, but she killed him, I swear! I had gotten home from school and she told me he was drunk and had threatened to divorce her so she slammed him into the Bowflex, I swear to God."

--

SUSPECT #3: Private Investigator Ralph O' Hare

"Vivica Livingston? Oh, how could I forget her? Hired me to follow her good for nothing husband, paid very well, might I add. Very well. Very, very well."

"Right. Mr. O' Hare-"

"Investigator O' Hare."

"That's not what the... lemme see here... 'School of Investigations and Evidence' tells us. Considering there is no such thing. What does that do to your degree?"

"Fine, I'll talk. Mr. Livingston was screwing a zookeeper. That's what a told her, and that's what I saw."

"Does this zookeeper have a name?"

"I dunno. Sara something. Smithers? No... like, Sara Slunk."

"You mean Sidle?"

"That's it!"

--

SUSPECT #4: Sara Sidle

"Agent Szmerka, is this a joke?"

"Definitely not."

"Agent Szmerka, I don't even know a Jack Livingston, nevertheless was carrying on an illicit relationship."

--

SUSPECT #3: Ralph O' Hare

"Yeah right. She was screwing him like a carpenter screws a nail."

"You don't screw a nail. You screw a screw, and nail a nail."

"You can hammer a nail."

"MR. O' HARE. PLEASE focus. As such of a highly skilled private investigator you are, I'm sure you are aware that the woman you are accusing is a former CSI, and we have this habit of favoring her story over the story of a fake private investigator."

"Fine. Wanna know the truth?"

"No, Mr. O' Hare, I would really prefer it if you lied to us."

"Mr. Livingston was as clean as a schoolboy with a crush. But, I had to make up stories."

"Why?"

"You and I both know, as investigators that we rarely get paid with sex."

"He's right. At the bureau, we get paid with goats. You have to be with the FBI for at least six years before they start paying you with young, Iranian virgins."

"... so, I noted that he kept returning to the Zoo to gawk at this zookeeper. I pulled a few strings-"

"G strings?"

"- and found out her name. I told Mrs. Livingston, batta-bing, best sex ever."

"And then what?"

--

SUSPECT #1: Vivica Livingston

"So, he lied to me? That sonofabitch! So I killed him for nothing? And took all the trouble of dumping the body into that dolphin tank to scare that zookeeper slut _for nothing?!_"

"You what?"

"Uh... I mean..."

--

CASE CLOSED

* * *

"Well, was that not the oddest case of sex, greed, incest, private investigation and murder you've have ever heard of?" Taña asked, as they were packing away the evidence.

"Yeah," Greg noted. "Maybe we should write a book about it."

* * *

"Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand."

-Woody Allen


	16. The Best Birthday Gift

16- "The Best Birthday Gift"

* * *

"Happy Birthday!"

Taña and Greg had just walked into the DNA Lab, and almost died from shock. The cake was in the shape of a test tube, and instead of candles, they had lit a strip of magnesium for the pyrotechnics.

Everyone was there, even Sara. Yvette was smiling as she handed Greg and Taña lab coats which had "Birthday CSI" and "Birthday Profiler" written on the backs. They all smiled and ate cake, the perfect geek birthday. It wasn't May 7th quite yet, but at 12 o' clock they would probably be at some crime scene, so they celebrated early.

* * *

Taña and Greg were in the break room later that day, laughing, reading the newspaper when Catherine walked in and threw a letter over to Taña.

"We got this at the front desk."

Taña looked slightly confused as she ripped open the letter and read the first two lines, and actually spit her tea across the room in surprise.

"What?" Both Greg and Catherine asked at the same time, as Taña stood up and grabbed her jacket.

"I need to go," She said hurriedly, and grabbed her jacket.

"Shift doesn't end for another half an hour!" Catherine yelled to Taña's retreating back, but she had opened the door and left.

Taña ran outside and into her car, the sun beginning to rise, rereading the letter as she sat in her car. Shocked.

But she remembered it. Like it was a nightmare of a yesterday. The secret she should have never kept...

A knock on her window. It was Greg.

"Are you okay? You left in a hurry."

She rolled down the window and held the paper to her chest in a possessive manner.

"Greg! Hi. I didn't see you there- no no, don't worry, I'm fine. It's okay, I am fine." Her blabbering arouse even more suspicions as Greg said, "Taña, you're worrying me."

"I'm fine... I have to go though. Yes. I have to go. Have a good weekend, Greg." She threw the car into gear and practically burned rubber out of the parking lot.

* * *

Gil and Sara sat outside in a small, inconspicuous café, smiling and laughing about who-knows-what. To see Sara smiling was one thing, but to see Gil laughing was another.

"Gil, I really appreciate this. You coming today, and seeing me. I was a little lonely."

"No problem. Every second with you is a blessing."

"Stop doing that, Gil."

"Doing what? Telling you that you mean everything to me?"

"Stop complimenting me."

"Are you telling me to stop telling the truth?"

"I- Oh, that was a good one."

Gil smiled at her as the sun shone on her face, lighting up her features in such a cliché way that Gil worried it was all a dream.

But it wasn't.

"Marry me, Gil." Sara said, making Gil choke on his drink.

"I'm sorry?"

"Seriously, Gil. We aren't getting any younger. We've tried dating; it was wonderful. We've tried breaking up; it was terrible. We've tried doing nothing; that obviously didn't work. So let's get married."

Gil's slow smiled appeared again: it seemed almost as if it didn't belong on his serious face, but it made him look different, made him look so human, so miraculously happy.

"I would be stupid to say no."

"I love you, Gil."

"I've always loved you, Sara."

* * *

The next day was Saturday, and Greg needed to talk to Taña, to figure out what spooked her so badly. He knocked on her door, but there was no answer.

"Ya lookin' for Taña?" A little girl asked, the Mexican accent obvious in her voice.

"Yes. Do you know where I can find her?"

"She said something about headin' over to the park to talk with some guy." A woman in the next apartment yelled something in Spanish and the little girl excused herself and ran off.

He was about to head over to the nearest park when an open letter near the window caught his eye. It was the letter she had received that last night.

What caught his eye was the seal on top. The letter was from Colorado Social Services.

With a glance around to see if anyone was looking, Greg leaned his hand through his window and grabbed the letter.

-----------

Dear Taña Szmerka:

COLORADO SOCIAL SEVICES REPORT OF Daren Gregory Schroeder:

We are informing you on behalf of adoption of Daren Gregory (SUBJECT) to Mike and Deborah Schroeder; finalized on March 13th, 1995 in Denver, Colorado. SUBJECT'S parents died in automobile collision on April 23rd, 2004 in Boulder, Colorado.

SUBJECT, born at Memorial Hospital in Colorado Springs, Colorado on March 10th, 1995 to Taña Szmerka, 18, born May 7th, 1975, and to UNKNOWN PATERNITY; SUBJECT'S biological mother relinquished rights of parenthood citing reasons of age and financial grief.

SUBJECT, 9 years of age as of April 20th, 2004, requests visitation with biological mother. Biological mother has secure financial situation, is unmarried and has no children. Currently resides in LAS VEGAS, NEVADA. Employed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, QuanticoVirginia for over a year. Biological mother filed papers for adoption on April 30th, 2004. Papers pending a visitation and investigation into paternity of SUBJECT.

Visitation scheduled for May 7th, 2004, in Las Vegas, Nevada, Maples Community Park, at 12 pm. Social Worker Jackie Hardnez will supervise visit.

Call Colorado Social Services to confirm visitation.

-----------

Greg stood there in a moment of shock. Three things stood out at him: "unknown paternity", "Taña Szmerka", and most of all "Biological mother... filed for adoption."

He was actually blown back as he sat on the ground, rereading the letter, absorbing it all in. Then, he looked at his watch. It was 11:46.

He practically flew to his car and drove over to Maples Community Park. He got out of the car, still holding onto the paper for dear life, as he saw Taña, who was standing and pacing, looking incredibly nervous, and very beautiful. She was looking out at something in the distance, and Greg followed her gaze, and saw _him._

A tall, black woman from social services was holding onto his hand, and he was practically pulling her across the baseball field. The smile on his face could only be explained using the adjective "Taña". But his face, his eyes, all screamed "Greg". Especially his hair. It wasn't brown, it was blonde, but very crazy. Very Greg-like.

Taña stiffened, and her eyes began to water as the little boy named Daren broke away from the social worker and flew-it was way faster than running- over to Taña's arms, which were wide open and welcoming. She crouched down and hugged him, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

"Oh, my sweet baby. How I missed you." Taña whispered, as the angel whispered back, "Are you my real mom?"

She had seen Greg, he knew it. She was crying, the joy could almost be seen. So he walked over, and Taña said, "Yes, I am. And this is your Dad."

The word fell on Greg like syrup, sticking to him and giving him an overall warm feeling. Dad. _He was a dad!_

Daren looked overwhelmed, shocked. "I... I get a Dad too? All on the same day?"

Greg smiled, "Hi Daren. My name is Greg."

"Can you teach me how to throw a football?"

Greg's eyes filled too; the child's innocence almost killed him. Daren was beautiful.

"Mom and Dad are in Heaven now, talking with the angels. I can talk to them too, when I pray. I pray really hard, so they can hear me. Like this."

He squinted his eyes in intense concentration, but that didn't last long, as a hyper child of nine he stood back and said, "I'm in fourth grade."

"Really?" Greg asked, bending down, "Do you like school?"

"No!" He shrieked, laughing, then he fell serious quickly, exhibiting Taña's intense stare.

"So, if you're my real dad, and she's my real mom, do I get to live here? Does it snow here? I love skiing, and sledding. And making snow angels!"

"We don't know yet, Daren." Taña said, smiling and bending over to join the whispering pow-wow. "Do you want to live here?"

"Do you have football here?"

Taña smiled, "Yes, we do."

Daren smiled again, "I brought one. Teach me!"

Greg accepted the ball that Daren shoved into his hands. Until the sun began to set, they had played football, played in the sand box, played a very intense game of tag and attempted to build a human pyramid but it didn't really work out well.

Jackie Hardnez finally came up and told Daren it was time to go as Taña, Greg and Daren were in a pile on the ground, planning a ground strike on the sandcastle they had just made, scheduling it for destruction.

Daren wasn't too happy with having to leave, but you could tell he respected Jackie and was getting used to social services as he sadly dragged his feet away, but before he left he said something neither of them will ever forget.

"I miss my mom and dad a lot, but I know I'm going to miss you guys too. Why do I keep losing my parents?"

If Greg wasn't standing behind her, Taña would have fallen down in sad surprise. Her emotional drain was beginning to affect her, and Greg held her up as Daren walked back into the sunset. Both had tears down their faces. Even after the car had left, taking their son away again, they still stood there, the sun slowly setting.

"I know I should have told you everything about Daren. We were only together once in high school, but that's all it took."

"Is this why your parents gave me that revolted stare? Because they thought I knew..."

"Oh God, Greg. I am so sorry. I told them... I told them that I told you and you didn't care. I am so sorry, Greg."

He sat there, finally understanding.

"He's beautiful... that was the best birthday gift."

More silence.

"I know I'm not going to get him, Daren, but it would have killed me if I had passed up this one opportunity to get him back. I can't let him live with the knowledge that his mother didn't at least try to get him back."

Greg and Taña stood in the silence, emotionally tired from the day's events.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: there is no purpose to dwell on lost dreams. I made the worst mistake of my life giving him up, but I know I had to... just as I gave you up. The two most important men in my life, both of whom I drove away and had a chance of reconciliation..."

She shook her head sadly and began to walk away.

"There is no purpose to dwell on lost dreams..."

* * *

"I wandered lonely as a cloud  
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,  
When all at once I saw a crowd,  
A host, of golden daffodils...

For oft, when on my couch I lie  
In vacant or in pensive mood,  
They flash upon that inward eye  
Which is the bliss of solitude;  
And then my heart with pleasure fills,  
And dances with the daffodils."

-William Wordsworth


	17. Epilogue

"Epilogue"

* * *

"... all the days of my life." Sara said, holding on to Gil's hands and looking deep into his eyes.

"Well then, I now pronounce you husband and wife!"

Everyone stood up at once and whooped and hollered as the new married couple walked down the aisle.

It was a beautiful, small wedding out in the cracked desert. The white chairs and the white aisle stood out in contrast to the empty desert, and held such a poignant beauty that everyone was taken aback when they had first arrived.

Greg and Taña stood close together as the applauding grew even louder when Gil and Sara kissed again at the end of the aisle. Greg leaned over and whispered into Taña's ear.

"So, what now? We got the husband, the son, the wife, the zookeeper and the scientist. Does that make it a love pentagon?"

Taña rolled her eyes as they watched the couple get into a limo.

Greg smiled, "Pop quiz. What has two vertexes?"

Taña was still standing in front of him, watching the limo drive away, "A line segment, you 'tardo."

"Then, what has no vertexes?"

Taña paused for a second. "A circle."

"You mean a ring?" He held up the ring in front of her face. The engagement ring.

"I... well... If by that you mean..."

"For once, will you just say 'yes' and let me have the last word?"

She spun around to look into his eyes.

"Yes, I will marry you, and allow you to have the last word."

"Thank you."

They began to walk away when Taña said, "... you know, technically, a blank coordinate plane could have no vertexes either. Descartes invented the Cartesian coordinate plane wherein-"

Greg rolled his eyes and leaned over to kiss her to shut her up. It worked.

"Ew!" Daren shrieked at the kissing couple. "Don't do that in front of me!" He looked slightly miffed at being forced to wear a tuxedo as he tugged at his lopsided bowtie.

"It has always been you, Greg." Taña whispered to him, "You always could surprise me..."

The desert sun had just begun to set, casting everything in a mystical red glow. All the guests left, leaving nothing but the empty blood red desert, and one single white rose that had been blown into the distance...

_It is worth it to dwell on lost dreams. Everyone deserves a second chance._

------------------END-------------------

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! You have no idea how much they brighten my day. -Dare-Soñar

"Reach high, for stars lie hidden in your soul. Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal." –Pamela Vaull Starr


End file.
